On We March
by loveislouder94
Summary: They will try to knock us down, and we'll march on. / A drabble collection for various competitions. Eleven: Ron and Hermione, struggling in the wake of the war.
1. Chapter 1

**Written for:  
The Globetrotter Drabble Competition - Toronto, Canada  
****Brown, positive (write about someone protecting or even dying for someone else)**  
**The Wand Wood Competition: Alder – write a story with no dialogue**  
**Legendary Gods and Goddesses Competition – Susanoo no mikoto  
The Gemstone Challenge/Competition - Diamond**

As he felt the Carrows' curses rip into him again and again, all he could think about was his parents, and how they had suffered torture so much worse than this. Neville refused to end up like them, no matter what the Carrows did to him, and he would never betray the DA. It was with a bittersweet sense of satisfaction that he understood that the bumbling, forgetful boy he had once been was gone, and in his place stood a new Neville, someone braver and stronger and more admirable than his eleven-year old self.

Or maybe, he thought, this Neville had been there all along, just waiting for the right moment to emerge.

Dumbledore had seen it, when he'd awarded Neville those ten points that won the House Cup in his first year, and he might have been the only one to see it then, but now everyone would see Neville as someone different, worthy of that red and gold banner above his bed.

Groaning, he pushed himself until he was standing, leaning against the wall for support, and looked the Carrows in the eyes. He was afraid, but he wouldn't let his fear hold him back any longer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Written for:  
The Globetrotter Drabble Competition - Hong Kong, China **  
** Legendary Gods and Goddesses Competition – Uke Mochi **  
**The Colours Competition: Turquoise negative -write about someone untrustworthy. **  
**The Greenhouses Competition - Begonia**

You're meek and timid and cowardly and disloyal, but most of all, Peter, you're _obedient._

You'll do whatever the Dark Lord asks of you, follow your orders to the letter, because maybe, _maybe _he'll let you live another day, and that's all you care about. You've always had a strong instinct for self-preservation – the Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor because you asked it to, but you're a slippery Slytherin at heart.

He asks you to betray your best friends, and for a fleeting moment you're ashamed of your own cowardice, and wish you were more like them. It only lasts a moment, and then you're merely relieved that you've survived. Your obedience lets you live another sixteen years, and then it kills you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Written for the Through Time Competition**  
**Prompts: Fear, deep ruby, parseltongue, Egypt, Falco Aesalon, the Diagon Dispensary, colosseum, Julius Caesar**

320 Common Era

When Emperor Constantine and the Romans defeat Corinth and the flourishing world of Greece succumbs unwillingly to Roman rule, Falco Aesalon flees to England. He considers Egypt first, before remembering that they, too, are under Roman control after the humiliating dethroning of Marc Antony at the hands of Emperor Augustus. It seems like the entire world lives under a blanket of fear, and the domination of the Roman Empire is unstoppable. Those who have the ability speak in languages other than their own, for fear of being overheard by the spies that are rumoured to lurk behind every door. Falco even catches hisses of Parseltongue among certain witches and wizards, a testament to just how frightened people have become.

So Falco chooses to save his own skin, and moves to England as soon as possible, taking with him as little as possible. It's not difficult; he has no family to leave behind, no friends who will miss him – only a collection of acquaintances and admirers.

His first stop is Diagon Alley, and while he's there, he stops by the Diagon Dispensary to pick up some Purifying Concentration of Spleenwart -he's running low, and you can't get it anywhere else. As much as he loves Greece, and it'll always be his home, Falco admits that he does have a certain fondness for England and its produce.

England has become one of the rare places he can go and be left alone. In Rome, he is pestered and heckled as an unnatural creature. Under Constantine, the people loathe him and his falcon form, viewing him as a direct challenge to Constantine's beloved Christianity, and several times he has only narrowly avoided arrest. In Greece he is revered and held in the highest esteem. Some even compare him to the Gods, though such comparisons are blatant blasphemy. Yet he tires of his notoriety sometimes. Fame can be enormously exhausting.

At such times, Falco will gladly shed his human form and fly freely through the sky. One of his favourite pastimes is to find a comfortable perch and watch the sunrise and sunset. He thinks there's something sacred in the way the colours change, different every time, and the way that the movement of the sun is constant and dependable, even when the world itself may be in utter turmoil.

The blue sky will be shot through with hints of pink and, on occasion, deep ruby, and Falco will shut his eyes and spread his wings, basking in the simple pleasures of being in his own company. If he feels up to the flight, he'll go all the way to the Colosseum in Rome, just because he can. He derives no small amount of satisfaction from knowing that he's sitting on one of the world's greatest monuments, and there's not a thing Constantine and his followers can do about it. In his resentful moments, he curses the time into which he was born – surely an Emperor as renowned as Julius Caesar would have allowed him to roam free?

In thousands of years, Falco will be remembered and celebrated as the first recorded Animagi. His face will be paraded on chocolate frog cards and scholars will debate the tiny details of his life. For now though, he's a living, breathing human being, and all he wants is a little peace.


	4. Chapter 4

**For Emma (AStitchedUpHeart) - thank you for doing such a good job of co-running the Hugs and Happiness Challenge. I hope you enjoy this! (And I love your penname too, by the way!)**

People look at him differently now, or they don't look at him at all, and Bill realises just how much he'd always taken his relative normalcy for granted once it's been lost.

He wears his scars like the battle wounds that they are, walking with his head held high, and most of the time, he doesn't give two Sickles what the rest of the world thinks. _Most of the time._

He has his dark days, just like everyone else, and on those days, Fleur is there to hold his hand, literally and figuratively, even when he tells her to leave, yells at her to go and find someone better, someone deserving of her beauty and her grace. She stays by his side when anyone else would leave, cooks him countless rare steaks and stays awake while he paces restlessly beneath the glow of the full moon.

Sometimes, though, she'll be looking at him, and her eyes will fill inexplicably with tears. She always turns away, and he doesn't say anything, but he knows she's crying for him, for the parts of him that have been destroyed along with his face.

His mother is exactly the same. He feels her eyes on him when she thinks he can't see, and when he faces her, there's a hint of sadness in her eyes that she can't quite disguise. He might be her oldest son, and an adult himself, but as she fondly tells him, "You'll always be my child. Some things never change." There's something inexplicably reassuring about that statement, a tiny piece of certainty in a world that grows more uncertain with each passing day, and Bill finds himself dropping into the Burrow whenever he can, just so he can steal precious moments with his parents.

Ginny admires him even more after Greyback's attack, if it were possible. She'd visited him every day in the hospital wing, sometimes accompanied by Harry, Ron and Hermione, and sometimes on her own. She'd sit at a chair by his bed, and if he was sleeping, she'd not take her eyes off him, as though the determination in her gaze would help him heal faster. If he were awake, they'd talk, and if he felt like being silent she'd speak enough for the both of them. If the mess of his face bothered her, she didn't show it, and for that he remains infinitely grateful to her and her ability to make him feel almost normal again.

Remus is an invaluable help during his recovery, too. He and Tonks visit Bill several times at the Burrow, and Bill gains newfound respect for Remus as he begins to experience first-hand only some of what Remus has been exposed to since he was a child. It makes him praise whatever Gods there are for not making him a full werewolf.

Above all, Bill is thankful for his life, because he knows that night could have been much, much worse. The war has left him scarred on the outside, but really, who can say the war _hasn't_ scarred them, visibly or not?

**Written for:**

**The Globetrotter Drabble Competition - Luxembourg City, Luxembourg **  
** The HP Potions Competition - Wolfsbane Potion**  
**The Hugs and Happiness Challenge - Emma (AStitchedUpHeart)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Written for:  
The Globetrotter Drabble Competition - New Delhi, India**  
**The Wand Wood Competition - Walnut (write about a Ravenclaw)  
The HP Potions Competition - Weakness Potion**

Gilderoy, you've spun your web of lies so far and wide that sometimes you begin to believe them yourself. After a day of signing countless autographs, and posing for countless photos with swooning witches (and some wizards), you forget that you're a fraud. You certainly don't feel like one. In fact, you think that anyone cunning enough to fool as many people as you have deserves all the admiration you're getting, and more.

Maybe you didn't really save a village from a pack of wild werewolves, and maybe you have no clue what the Homorphous Charm actually does, but you think you deserve that Order of Merlin, Third Class. You are and always will be a legend in your own mind and, as they say, it's now how others see you that matters, but how you see yourself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Written for:  
The Globetrotter Drabble Competition - Canberra, Australia  
The Hugs and Happiness Challenge - Lexen. Happy Birthday, I hope you have a good one!**

Lucy dear, _what are you doing?_

You watch the blood run down your arms as though it might reveal some kind of truth, as though it holds the key to something more than the lonely existence you're stuck with now.

It doesn't, of course. The blood is just blood. The pain is just pain, and your life is just the same as it's always been. Fred's still dead, splattered like a bug on the ground below the Astronomy Tower, Lily's run off to London to find her feet, Grandma Molly is beside herself with worry, and you? Well, you take each day as it comes. You have to, because you feel like you're always only a minute away from falling apart and joining Fred, wherever he is.

You meet Molly at The Leaky Cauldron at twelve precisely, just like she'd said. She's sitting at a table near the back, so you weave your way through the crowd until you reach her and carefully sit down.

She looks at you and tries to smile, but it ends up looking painfully forced. "Hey Luce. I ordered you a hot chocolate."

"I don't drink hot chocolate," you tell her, unsurprised she doesn't remember. Who cares enough to remember details about _you_?

She frowns. "You did when we were kids."

"I'm not a kid any more. What do you want, Molly?"

She folds her hands in front of her and takes a deep breath. "The family's falling apart. Fred's – Fred's gone, Lily's run off, you're avoiding us all like we've got the plague and dad's blaming himself. Grandma Molly wants to get us all together for dinner, do something to help, and I – we – want you to come."

"And you couldn't have just sent an owl?"

"Do you ever respond to owls?"

"Given that you never seemed to want anything to do with me, I saw no point attending family functions, or responding."

"Oh, grow up, Lucy!" _Grow up, Lucy, _she tells you, critical, impatient and exasperated, just like she's always been. You're never good enough.

Lucy dear, this meeting was a bad idea; didn't you know that from the start? So you get up, throw some money on the table and walk away, and you don't look back.

The wounds on your arms sting, and your confusion about Molly fades away, along with everything else – the pain is all you'll ever need.


	7. Chapter 7

You weren't there, Charlie. You weren't there when they needed you, and it feels like a betrayal deeper than anything Percy had ever done. Percy was there when Fred died. Where were you?

You were barely back from Romania, from the safety of your job and a country that was miles away from war-torn England. You were too scared to come back earlier, even when one of your brothers lost an ear. Oh, you'd come back every now and then, and you convinced yourself you were doing an important job overseas.

Truthfully? You ran away, and the guilt kills you.

**Written for:**

**The 100 Words Exact Drabble Challenge  
The Wand Wood Competition - Chestnut (write about Charlie Weasley)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Written for:  
The Legendary Creatures Competition – Petsuchos**  
**The Greenhouses Competition - Chilli Pepper**  
**The Legendary Gods and Goddesses Competition - Hanuman**

In Azkaban, you don't see the sun for years and years, but it's no great loss for you – your world revolves around him, and he has become your sun.

He is power and authority and control and as strong as you are, he makes you feel insignificant, like all the magic in you is nothing compared to the Dark Lord and his impossible immortality.

He can't feel love in any way at all, but you can't help but hope, every time he says your name "Bella" – and you feel beautiful and visible, as though his summons are the only thing that makes you real.

He praises your loyalty, honours your dedication, and yet it's nevernever enough. You want him to want you, the way you want him. Your every move, every thought is built from your devotion, from a longing for the kind of love you'll never receive.


	9. Chapter 9

**Written for:**  
**The HP Potions Competition: Bundinmun Pomade – write about someone vain**  
**The Bookshelf Competition/Challenge: Sophie Kinsella – write about someone being obsessed with something**

You need everyone's eyes just to feel seen  
- Cooler Than Me, Mike Posner

Romilda Vane, the truth is in your name, dear – you're _vain_. More self-confident than most young girls your age, more self-centred than you believe, but there's nothing wrong with that, is there?

You're giggly and bold as brass, supremely conscious of your own prettiness. You're the leader of your little group, and that suits you just fine. In fact, it's the only way you _will _be fine_._

Pretty much every girl in Hogwarts has Harry Potter in her sights, but none of them, you're sure, is a match for you and your determination, and that's putting it lightly. You style your hair differently every day, carefully apply your make-up every morning and practise your smile in the mirror, all in the futile hope that you'll attract attention. You certainly achieve that, boys from all four Houses ask you to Hogsmeade at some point, stuttering and blushing, so afraid it's ridiculous. Luckily, you're nothing like them, you've got your sights set on the Chosen One, and those other boys are nothing but temporary distractions, something to keep you occupied before your true business begins.

You've never been much of a Quidditch player, a fact that becomes remarkably irrelevant upon the announcement that trials will be held for the Gryffindor team, orchestrated by none other than Harry Potter. Attending is a must, so you broach the subject to the girls in your dorm and it doesn't take much to convince them; they're captivated by the hero that is Harry too, any excuse to observe him will do.

Approaching him is something you plan in advance for days, and as a result your performance is nowhere near as laughable as those of the misguided boys who are brave enough to ask you out, but it's ultimately just as fruitless.

"Hi Harry," you say, pouncing the moment he steps through the portrait hole. "Fancy a Gillywater?"

He declines, and where others might have backed down, you're only more dogged in your attempts. "Well, take these anyway. Chocolate Cauldrons, they've got Firewhiskey in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don't like them." Lies. Your gran is long gone, and she'd never have sent you chocolate anyway, she was openly scathing of your self-absorption, evident even in your childhood.

When you see Ginny Weasley throw herself at Harry Potter after Gryffindor wins the cup, you're seized by a furious indignation – Harry was _your _target, your prize to claim, and who did that red-head think she was, stealing him from under your nose?

It has nothing to do with love of course, you've never felt that before, and you won't for many years. No, the only regard you have for Harry Potter is the anticipation of a fisherman waiting for a bite, the fascinated schoolgirl begging for attention.

(Because you need to feel their eyes on you, without them you'd be invisible.)

You're bitter and annoyed, yet rather than admit defeat you change your tune. Now you won't pursue the Boy Who Lived, you'll listen closely to all the gossip, gathering as much as you can and creating some yourself, so that everyone will know that you are the number one source for information relating to Harry Potter. It all comes back to him, for those few years. He is the centre of your life before you grow up and into other obsessions, and you'll always remember him for that, something far more important to you than the fact that he vanquished the Dark Lord.

(He is nothing but an example, because ultimately Romilda, the only thing you care about is _yourself_.)


	10. Chapter 10

**Written for:**

**The 100 Words Exact Drabble Challenge**

It's a cold night the first time they meet after the war.

Their families are inside, sitting at the table and trying to salvage what's left of their lives. Astoria and Draco slip outside and sit on the grass, sipping Firewhiskey.

Except that Draco's more like gulping, a dying man desperate for air and alcohol has become his oxygen.

"Maybe you should slow down a little," Astoria suggests.

He lowers the bottle, turning to look at her. She's gorgeous, hair blowing in the breeze. Even then he senses something in her, as though she holds the key to his redemption.


	11. Chapter 11

"Sickle for your thoughts?"

Hermione was sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, staring unseeingly out at the slowly darkening horizon. They were at the Burrow for dinner, and Hermione had slipped away before desert, quietly, so as to avoid being noticed. Ron had seen of course, and he'd given her some time on her own, but he judged that some company wouldn't go astray either.

He of all people understood that being left with your own thoughts for too long could be painful and dangerous, and there was no way he was going to watch Hermione wrestle with hers without attempting to help her as much as he could.

Startled, she turned around, reflexively drawing her wand. Ron held up his hands in surrender, and upon realising it was him, Hermione relaxed, her shoulders sagging into a posture that looked alarmingly like defeat.

"Oh…Ron, I'm so glad it's only you. I thought it was…well, I don't know what I thought, I was just being silly, I suppose." She laughed uneasily, and Ron was unconvinced by her false bravado, lowering himself down next to her and putting an arm around her shoulders.

He half expected her to flinch or pull away or look at him in disgust, and he still felt nervous and slightly queasy whenever he initiated contact with her, although she was never anything except happy to receive it.

"You weren't being silly, but you _were_ avoiding my question. Two sickles for your thoughts?"

"Honestly Ron, I'm fine!"

"Sure. Three sickles?"

"You're not going to give up, are you?"

"Four sickles?"

"Okay, okay! I – there's different things, really, I don't even know how or where to start…"

"How about whatever's bothering you most?" Ron prompted.

"Good idea, but don't – don't be annoyed at me. I feel silly complaining about anything at all, when what I'm going through is nothing compared to what you and your family have lost. I mean Fred, Fred was important to me too, but I didn't live with him, grow up with him, or know him in the ways you do, and I can't miss him in the same way either."

Hearing Fred's name still hurt as much as it had in the days following the war, even now, almost six months later, and Ron had to take a deep breath and wipe his eyes before he answered her. It would be so easy to get lost in his own grief all over again, and if he wasn't determined to help Hermione, he probably would have.

"You were just as much a part of the war as everyone else, and you have just as much right – if not more –than everyone else to grieve or be angry or whatever it is you are, and to express it."

A small, grateful smile appeared on her lips. "Thanks Ron… It's – there's this sense of everything being wrong, somehow. We won the war, I know that, and that's great, but we lost so much, and the whole world is so different now. I- I miss my parents, and every day they're in Australia, I worry a little more. They're safer there, and we have to wait until all the Death Eaters have definitely been rounded up before we can get them, which should probably reassure me… And I feel like I've said the same things over and over again, and if I'm even getting sick of myself saying them, I can't imagine what you or Harry or Ginny must think!"

Ron loved the way she said "we" without even thinking about it, as though the fact that they would go to Australia to get her parents, that they would now do everything together, was a given, and it gave Ron faith in the two of them, and their future.

"I think we've all said the same things to different people at different times, Hermione. That's because these wounds won't heal easily, they'll take time, and if that means we have to listen to each other laugh or cry or shout over the same things a hundred times, then we'll do it…But that's not all. There's something else, isn't there?"

"I feel…stuck. Like my life's not going anywhere, and some days I feel…_everything. _I feel so much, and I don't – I'm not actually living anything, I'm just trying to get through the current moment by hoping that something better will be around the corner, and I can't do that all the time! Maybe things do get better, but there are these periods in between that are just lost, and I'm never going to get that time back."

"The trick is to enjoy life. Don't waste away your days wishing for better ones ahead," said Ron sagely.

Hermione looked at him with renewed respect and some surprise, and smiled.

"What?" Ron asked, noticing her expression. "I reckon we can all be a bit philosophical sometimes, and we don't all have to be brainiacs like Hermione Granger." He worried briefly that she might have taken him seriously, but she just rolled her eyes good naturedly and snuggled more deeply into his chest, resting her head on his shoulder.

It was one of the many things he liked about them being in a relationship now, rather than the unsure friendship they'd struggled to maintain before. He could poke fun at her, and she at him, without it turning into a huge argument where they both shouted until they were red in the face and ready to rip out each other's throats. They were more secure in their love for each other now, and it made their whole lives so much easier.

"Love you," Hermione said contentedly, playing with his fingers.

"Love you too."

Maybe they were sappy and overly romantic, but Ron wouldn't have it any other way. He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy this rare moment of relaxation. He'd meant every word he'd said to Hermione; they'd all come a long way since the Battle, and it was remarkable. They were getting there, day by day, and it wasn't easy. There would be days, for all of them, when getting up seemed impossible, and they would want to lock themselves away and drown in memories and feelings and everything they couldn't control. Then there would be days when they could stand on their own two feet and bask in the brave new world that peace had given them, and just like he'd told Hermione, Ron would take them all, good and bad, and he wouldn't waste a second.

**Written for:**

**The Inspirational Quotes Competition**

**The All Sorts of Love Competition (Canon Love) **


	12. Chapter 12

**Written for:**  
**The 'What a Word' Challenge - Trucidation: slaughter**  
**The Legendary Gods and Goddesses Competition: Hephaestus – write about someone who works really hard**

Percy is focused and ambitious, and Audrey is an initially unwanted burst of fresh air into his organised life.

They meet in an elevator a few months after the war. Percy has just decided to return to work, and Kingsley has offered him a high-ranking position in the Department of Magical Transportation. They exchange friendly smiles and discover, upon exiting on the same floor, that Audrey will be working under Percy.

(Well, theoretically, anyway. In practise, all she has to do is smile and she's got him wrapped around her little finger.)

* * *

"We simply couldn't put up with such trucidation!"

"Trucidation, Perce?" Audrey teases with a smile. "Why can't you just say killing, or slaughter?"

Percy looks affronted. "The Minister says trucidation." He thought she'd have been impressed by his vocabulary, but instead here she is, laughing at him.

"Oh, well then, if the Minister uses it…" She's kidding, and when she sees Percy doesn't seem amused, she elbows him playfully in the ribs. "Trucidation," she repeats, in a poor imitation of Percy, and she's pleased to see a smile emerge on his face.

"I knew you had a sense of humour in there somewhere!"

For a long time, she's the only one who can bring it out.

* * *

"I was Prefect and Head Boy at Hogwarts," he tells her importantly one day.

"Really?" She says, arching one eye-brow. "I was Head of my dorm, but I don't think that counts, because we were all a bit tipsy when we voted…"

"Tipsy? Well – you… We'd better get back to work." Part of him, the Percy that he'd been before the war, wants to reprimand her for consuming alcohol in her dorm and being so irresponsible, but a larger part is annoyed that nothing he says seems to impress her in the slightest. And then he wonders, why is he even trying to impress her at all?

* * *

They share their first kiss on the anniversary of the war. They're at a hotel in India, where they've gone to discuss the use (and occasional misuse) of flying carpets. Usually, Percy would be loud and opinionated and unwilling to back down or concede defeat. This time, he is quiet and distracted and Audrey knows there's something wrong.

She questions him throughout the day, and he snaps that he's fine.

That night, she appears at his door holding a bottle of Firewhiskey and two glasses. "Thought you might like some company," she says, and because he can't bear to be alone with his thoughts any longer, he opens the door a little wider and lets her in.

A few glasses of alcohol later, he spills out all his secrets to her. He tells her about how he was too blinded by ambition and walked out on his family, and about how he finally mustered up the courage to come back. He starts crying when he tells her about Fred dying, and he's not sure whether it's the alcohol, or just the fact that it's been a year and the pain is still fresh and unbelievably agonizing, but he's not afraid or ashamed to cry in front of Audrey.

"He laughed, Audrey, my brother laughed at a joke that I made, for the first time ever. The one time I try to be funny, and it gets him  
killed. I should have known better!" His confession is slow, punctuated by pauses and deep breaths as he tries to control his emotions.

She doesn't know what to say, but she tries to comfort him anyway. "Merlin, Percy, I had no idea…" She'd known that he and his family were involved in the war, of course, she doubted there was a witch or wizard in Britain who didn't know the Weasley name now, but the details were an entirely different, and far more tragic, story.

Audrey begins to understand why he seems almost afraid to smile, why any sort of joke makes him shut down immediately. In Percy's mind, humour is not safe, and humour gets people killed. She vows then and there that even if it takes her the rest of her life, she will change his mind.

She succeeds, too, and it doesn't take her whole life, just a couple of years.

* * *

Somewhere along the line, they start having lunch together every day, and although neither of them admits it to the other, they look forward to those lunch hours more and more as time goes on.

She meets his father entirely by accident at the Ministry while they're having lunch one day. She's in the middle of telling a story about how he'd told her off one day for running in the corridors, brandishing his Head Boy badge as though it was the answer to everything. She hopes Percy might crack a smile at that. Instead, he goes very red in the face and becomes suddenly engrossed in the contents of his sandwich.

In the next minute, a tall, balding man with red hair is standing over them, smiling at Percy. "Afternoon Percy, I didn't know you ate here!"

"I – only sometimes - " he splutters, clearly flustered for some reason; his ears turning as red as his face.

The man notices Audrey while Percy struggles to form a coherent sentence. "Hello," he says cheerfully, "I'm Arthur Weasley, Percy's father. Are you a friend of his?"

"I'm Audrey," she replies, meeting his smile with one of her own. "I'm a – a friend of Percy's." He doesn't miss her hesitation.

"Nice to meet you Audrey, and it was good to see you Perce. Pop around for dinner soon, I think mum would love the company. And you're always welcome to join us," he adds, winking at Audrey.

"Sorry," Percy says awkwardly once he's gone.

"Don't be. I'd love to meet your family." There's an unspoken question in her statement – is he ready for her to meet his family? He's not, at least not for a while, and it's not until after she meets them that Audrey realises why, and she grows to love and understand Percy a little more.

He's always been different from them – they know it, and he knows it. It doesn't mean they love him any less (even if he sometimes thinks they do), they just don't treat him the same.

They're nothing but polite to Audrey, but she gets the feeling that they'll tease Percy about her when she's not there, and she's right.

* * *

He might never have fit perfectly with the rest of his family, yet when he's with Audrey, he doesn't have to. He belongs with her, and she belongs with him. They don't need anybody else if they have each other.

Percy is composed and diligent, and Audrey is almost the complete opposite, but when Percy looks back on it later, he sees that a breath of fresh air in the form of understanding Audrey Jones was exactly what he needed.


	13. Chapter 13

When you were younger, you threw a coin into a wishing well, you closed your eyes, and you _hoped._ Ted is the realisation of that hope. He makes you laugh, really laugh, like you haven't since you were a little girl.

So you leave your suffocating existence behind, ready for a life with him.

He lets you _breathe, _he doesn't care if your posture's not perfect, if your grades aren't top-notch, or if you reject your family's values. He accepts you as you are. Maybe on your own you're a constellation, but you know that nothing shines brighter than _TedandAndromeda. _

**Written for:  
The 100 words exact drabble challenge  
As Strong As We Are United**


	14. Chapter 14

May 23rd 1998

There was a knock at Andromeda's front door, a quiet, almost hesitant knock, as though whoever was on the other side wasn't sure if they really wanted to come in or not.

Warily, and with her wand out, Andromeda approached. The Battle may have been won, but there were no shortage of bitter Death Eaters who would delight in seeking vengeance on a blood traitor and her grandson.

"Who is it?"

The answer she received was unexpected, though not entirely unwelcome. "Andy? It's Narcissa… your sister." And then, as if she felt she needed to justify her presence, and prove her identity, she went on. "I am Narcissa Malfoy, formerly Narcissa Black. You and I shared a room when we were children, because Bellatrix wanted one all to herself. I haven't seen you, my sister, since you turned seventeen and ran away, but I think it's time to change that. I want to change that."

Upon hearing Narcissa's voice, Andromeda had paled, and placed a hand against the wall to steady herself. She might never have admitted it out loud, or even to herself, but she had missed her sister.

Fearing that she was being ignored, Narcissa spoke again. "I- I'll understand if you don't want to talk to me Andy, Merlin knows I deserve it, and much more. I had only hoped that there might be a possibility… "

Before she could finish, the door swung open, and Andromeda stepped aside. "Come in, Cissy," she said, somewhat awkwardly.

They walked into the sitting room, where Narcissa took a seat on one of the sofas and delicately removed her gloves. "I'll make a pot of tea," Andromeda said after a moment, retreating to the kitchen. She quickly ducked upstairs to check on Teddy, and the sight of him sleeping peacefully brought a smile to her face.

Downstairs, she made the tea efficiently, wondering why her sister had chosen to visit, and what it meant. Would they restore the bond they'd had as children? Could they restore that bond, or was there too much between them now for it to ever be the same?

Andromeda took a deep breath to clear her thoughts and carried the tray into the sitting room.

"Does Lucius know you're here?" She asked bluntly, unwilling to bother with pleasantries.

"No. I've just told him I'm going out, and for the time being, he need not know where."

Andromeda nodded and the conversation stalled as they both busied themselves with their tea, unsure about what to say next.

Considering that she had been the one to approach Andromeda, Narcissa took it upon herself to speak. "I know you probably don't want to hear it, but I am so enormously sorry for your loss."

"My loss?" Andromeda spluttered furiously. "You know nothing of my loss! You never knew my daughter and you hated my husband, all because of his parentage, something he couldn't help! How dare you? You and your husband and your son are safe, because you changed sides at the last second and my family – mine, who fought on the right side all along – they're gone, and they're never coming back!"

She was shouting by the end of her tirade, glaring at Narcissa, her hands balled into angry fists, and her voice was cracking with supressed sobs. She'd not yet grieved in front of another, saving her emotions for when she was alone, and those feelings tumbled out now, directed at Narcissa.

Narcissa was outwardly unfazed. She held Andromeda's gaze, saying, "It's okay to let yourself cry, Andy. It's okay to let yourself feel the hurt and pain and anger. You have to, if you want to live any sort of life again."

"How in Merlin's name am I supposed to have a life again, Cissy? You tell me that! It's been exactly three weeks, twenty-one days, since my daughter and son-in-law were taken from me. Ted's been gone six months, and not an hour goes by that I don't miss him. He'd tell me to keep going, to stay strong, and the only reason I have is the little baby upstairs who needs me, and even meeting his needs seems impossible sometimes!"

Narcissa rose and went to sit next to her older sister, uncertainly gripping her hands. "I'm here for you." There was nothing else she could say.

When Andromeda had calmed down, the two of them sat in silence for a while, until Narcissa ventured to break it.

"I know it's silly, and it makes no sense, but I feel so sad that Bella died." There were tears shining in Narcissa's eyes and she looked to her older sister for a response, just as she had so many times as a little girl.

"Bellatrix was nothing to me, Cissy. In my mind, she died a long time ago, and I sincerely wish she had, because then she wouldn't have been able to kill my only daughter. But you were always closer to her than I, and I can see how her death would grieve you. In the end, she was a maniac and a murderer, and yet before all that, before Azkaban and You-Know-Who and everything else, she was our sister."

"She was family, and family - " her voice wavered a little, "family is important." Narcissa let her meaning sink in before voicing a request.

"I was wondering if I might meet my great-nephew. Please, Andy." There it was again, her long-forgotten nickname coming from her sister's mouth, and Narcissa sounded so sincere that she didn't want to refuse her.

"He's sleeping now, and I'm not going to wake him up, but we can look in on him if you like." At Narcissa's nod, she stood and led the way upstairs to Teddy's bedroom. Pushing open the door, she positioned herself so she was blocking Narcissa's view. She felt suddenly, enormously protective of the little bundle in the basinet, and she didn't want to expose him to anything or anyone that might hurt him.

"It's okay," Narcissa said from behind her, "if you don't feel comfortable with the idea of me meeting him, we can just go back downstairs."

"No," Andromeda's voice was decisive. "I was just – I'm so scared – I want to keep him safe from everything, shielded and protected so he doesn't have to go through any of the pain I do… But that's impossible, I know. He's going to grow up, and he's going to feel pain as well as joy. He won't have a mother or a father to guide him through. He'll have me, and his godfather, and maybe – maybe he could have you too."

She walked towards the basinet, with Narcissa following, until they were both looking down on baby Teddy.

He was lying just as Andromeda had left him, knees bent and tiny hands curled into fists, his hair a bright, electric blue. He was wrapped in a blanket that had an "N," "R" and "T" shakily stitched at the bottom. Nymphadora had laboured over it for days, determined that Teddy should have something from her. She'd made him a scarf too, Andromeda remembered, with a matching one for Remus. They'd all laughed as she'd proudly presented her creations, loose and riddled with holes, for their inspection. Flawed though they were, they had become precious gifts to Teddy, items that might make him feel a little closer to his absent parents.

Andromeda impatiently wiped the tears from her eyes and saw that Narcissa was staring fixedly at Teddy. "His hair…" She breathed.

"It's generally blue when he's asleep, and when he's happy. It changes colours rapidly when he's awake, and that probably won't stop until he's about one or two, when he's got a little more control. Nymphadora was the same. When he's sad, his hair is brown, the exact shade of his father's."

"He's a miracle, Andy. He's so innocent."

The sisters looked each other in the eyes, estranged for so long, now finally reunited. "He's got an opportunity for a fresh start, at least to some degree, and so do we."

**Written for:**  
**Hugs and Happiness Challenge - UnicornsandRainbows20089**  
**The Flower Language Challenge - Nasturtium**  
**Fantastic Beasts Challenge: Hebredean Black  
The Doctor Who Appreciation Competition: Ninth Doctor**


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